


My Heart Will Go On

by ChelsaOfBakerStreet



Category: Glee, Titanic (1997)
Genre: F/M, Forced Marriage, Freedom, M/M, penniless!blaine, really cliche titles, tophat!kurt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-27
Updated: 2012-06-29
Packaged: 2017-11-04 09:48:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChelsaOfBakerStreet/pseuds/ChelsaOfBakerStreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine Anderson is a free-willed steerage passenger on the Unsinkable ship herself, but his life changes when he saves First-Class passenger Kurt Hummel from himself. From the prompt: Klaine Titanic</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Every Night In My Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [something_ingenious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/something_ingenious/gifts).



> I can hear your groans from over here about how cliche the title is. But there is a lot of meaning to that song for me, I sang it for two talent contests and a beauty pageant, winning one of them. I also dance with my little cousin to it, so unlike Balthazar on Supernatural, I love the song.

Blaine Anderson never thought himself to be a lucky man. Standing on the platform to the Titanic, next to his best friend Wes, tickets in hand, he felt as if he were the luckiest man alive. He glanced up at the smokestacks, gleaming red and jutting out of the top of the sleek black ship, puffs of steam rising out of them as the boat idled at the dock. He and Wes stood on the small ramp leading to the third class and steerage cabins, taking in the sights of the port when Blaine saw a figure walking across the first class ramp. It was a young man, Blaine would put him around the same age as himself, but the man was dressed to the nines, adorned in a black and silver tuxedo, complete with glossy top hat and white gloves. Blaine couldn't help but to stare, the man's pale skin glowing in the sun, giving him an almost ethereal look.

"Blaine, come on, you're drooling." Wes' voice cut through Blaine's reverie, forcing him to turn towards his friend and follow him into the ship. Blaine sent one last glance to the man who was now laughing amicably with friends, entering the first class door.

Wes and Blaine walked through the hallway past cramped cabins, though they were nicer than ninety per cent of the places Blaine had slept in over the past ten years. He'd always been poor, had come to live a life of scavenging and working hard for whatever he could get. He wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty and never broke a promise. He was an honest man, as honest as men in his position could be, but he worked hard and people found his easy-going nature to be enjoyable.

"This is it," Wes called, opening the door to one of the small cabins, tossing his small bag onto one of the top bunks.

"Oi!" a voice yelled out. "Who left ye to choose what bed ye get?"

Wes froze, turning to find a pale brunette staring at him. "I, er, didn't know it was taken," he stuttered, looking at the ground.

"I'm just taking the piss with ya mate. The name's Rory. Rory Flanagan." He stuck out his hand and Wes shook it, turning to introduce Blaine.

"This is Blaine, he and I are finally going to America."

"Well, I'm going home," Blaine answered, a wistful look filling his eyes. "It's been far too long." Blaine sighed, tossing his bag onto the bed beneath Wes'.

"I'm headin' over there for a fresh start." Rory supplied, sitting on the bottom bed across the room.

Suddenly the door burst open, the fourth man to share the cabin entering in a flurry of movement. "Is this where the party is at?" asked the man, tossing grease stained bag onto the remaining bed. "I'm Noah Puckerman, but call me Puck."

"Rory."

"Wes."

"Blaine." They each replied in turn, taking Puck's outstretched hand.

"So you're the boys I get to spend the next few days with yeah?"

"Sounds about right," Blaine answered, sprawling onto the bed. "Can you believe we're actually here? On the Titanic?"

"The unsinkable ship, they call her," Wes answered, turning on his internal dictionary like a switch. "They built her in Belfast; the two largest cranes in existence put her together."

"I saw her being built, y'know," said Rory. "Mum and dad and I lived about five miles from the shipyard they built her at."

Blaine settled back onto the small pillow, folding his arms under his head and closing his eyes, letting their conversation wash over him.

* * *

More than a few feet above Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel was being led to his estate rooms, contemplating if he could lock himself in a closet for the entire voyage or throwing himself off the tallest balcony he could find. Never in his eighteen years would he have thought that he would be forced onto a boat heading for America, an arranged marriage waiting for him at the end of the trip. He was sure that Rachel, the obnoxious and loud girl he was to be wed to was wonderful, but was really not his type. Now this wasn't 'not his type' in the sense of she liked football and he enjoyed rugby, but 'not his type' as in she had the wrong anatomy. Kurt knew it was dangerous, open homosexuality was frowned upon in society, 'frowned upon' here meaning you most likely would be beaten or disinherited in his case if he didn't marry a proper woman of class.

That was another thing Kurt hated. The social expectations set upon him. The Hummels were a proud family, steel giants of their time, and Kurt was expected to walk and talk like everyone else in their circles that had too much money and not enough common sense. His dad wasn't bad when they were at home, when it was the  _Hummel-Hudson_ household, not the  _Hummel_ fortune, the  _Hummel_ corporation, or the  _Hummels_ of Hummel Steel and Metal. At home Kurt could relax, cooking dinner occasionally with Carole when they let the cook have a day off, something most unheard of in their circle of acquaintances.

The marriage between him and Rachel Berry of Berry Oil had come as an agreement between the two companies. Burt would give Mr Berry a discount on his steel for wells as long as Mr Berry gave Burt a discount on oil to keep his machines running. The final tie between them would be the marriage between their two children, sending them to America to start setting up Hummel Steel and Berry Oil in the states. Burt had his stepson, Finn to remain at home and run the company from London, while Rachel's parents awaited a male heir to take over the oil company in Cardiff.

Kurt sat on the bed, all of his items having been brought to the cabin by what his father called his 'mentor' but was really there to make sure Kurt didn't mess up this whole business. Will Schuester was twice Kurt's age and read boring books out loud to try and pass the time. Kurt hated it, and him, but he knew he had to stay on his best behaviour to keep his father happy. "Will, I'm going out to the upper deck, I'll be back before dinner."

Will sent a glance over to Kurt where he looked up from the book of sonnets he was holding on his lap. "Be sure that you are at dinner on time Kurt, you need to make an impression."

Kurt rolled his eyes as the cabin door swung shut behind him, turning left to head to the upper deck. He needed to clear his mind and he figured that looking out at the expanse of ocean would do just that.

He made his way to the railing that overlooked the rest of the ship, passing first class couples laughing gaily and lost in conversation about what they would do when they reached America.  _So glad you can make plans for your life_  Kurt thought bitterly. He sighed and glanced down to the lower deck, mostly empty, a few children running around and for the first time in his life wished he hadn't been born a Hummel. It would have been different if he'd been born a little less rich, where there were fewer pressures from his parents and the people they knew.

His eyes searched the lower deck, not really knowing what he was looking for until he found it. Or him, he should say. Soft brown curls bounced onto the boy's forehead as he dipped his head to keep the sun out of his eyes. Kurt could hear the boy's voice faintly, a sharp tenor cutting through the wind and wrapping around Kurt. He watched in awe as another boy came to sit with the singing brunette, their clothes tattered, but laughing as if they had not a care in the world.

It was when Kurt saw the darker-skinned boy laid his head on the brunette that his chest ached. Did less money, being poor even, give a person a freedom unlike any other? Kurt ached to know what life was like for these two boys. Were they beaten, ridiculed, made fun of? Or were people more accepting, understanding, appreciative even of a person who had talents, but loved the same sex?

Kurt felt a tear run down his cheek, unaware until that very moment that he had begun crying, his heart aching, his soul longing to fly away.

* * *

Blaine stretched onto the bench; feet resting on top of the arm as he turned his head this way and that, trying to keep the sun out of his eyes. He began humming a tune he once heard, putting his own words to the lilting melody. He glanced up, catching sight of the man he had seen earlier and wanted to wave but didn't, not wanting to embarrass either of them if his friendliness was unwanted.

Blaine sat up upon hearing footsteps near him, grinning at Wes as he appeared before him. "Hey Wes, what are you doing out of bed?"

"Came to check on you, I can only sleep so long you know."

Blaine laughed. "You could have slept this entire trip if you set your mind to it."

"And miss the wonderful meals?" Wes grimaced. "You'd think they were serving prisoners."

"At least they're giving us food; it means we don't have to steal from first class."

"I wouldn't step foot in there if you begged me. They all think they're better then everyone just because they have more stuff. I'd rather just have the shirt on my back than have to remember all those rules."

Blaine thought once again to the man on the bridge. "They all can't be that bad you think?"

Wes rested his head on Blaine's shoulder, a gesture they had used many times, signalling the deep friendship bond the two boys had. "Maybe there's one or two good ones in there, but the rest of the lot should be thrown overboard."

Blaine laughed, eyes crinkling. "How kind Wes, and why don't they invite you to dinner again?"

Wes stuck out his tongue and leapt away from Blaine who began to chase him across the deck. Blaine grinned at the feel of wind in his hair, sun on his face. He was finally going to be free at last.

* * *

Kurt watched the two men chase each other around the deck and wished to join them, to let loose and just feel again. He was startled out of his reverie by a hand on his shoulder and turned to find Rachel there.

"What riff-raff, grown men acting like two-year-olds. I'm so glad you know how to act proper Kurt."

The disdain in her voice dripped off her tongue and it was all Kurt could do to keep from just running away and hiding from Rachel Berry forever. "Yes, what luck, and good upbringing of course. What brings you out here Rachel? I thought you'd be having a rest."

"I did and then Mr Schuester thought it best that I'd come remind you to get ready for dinner. The windblown look isn't in style this year you know." Rachel turned without another word and hurried back to her cabin, leaving Kurt standing there alone.

Kurt trudged back to his cabin, greeting Will who was reciting poetry again and looked into a mirror. Dark shadows were beginning to form under his eyes, the stress of hiding who he was, finally getting to him. He sat on the edge of the bed for a minute, smoothing his trousers and deciding how to style his hair. There were two things the Kurt could always count on being, stylishly dressed and sarcastically dry-humoured. He would need both tonight.


	2. I See You, I Feel You

Kurt sat in the dining room of the ship surrounded by chattering people. His table sat seven, himself and Rachel, along with her bodyguard Karofsky and his mentor Will. Will was seated next to Kurt, chatting amiably with Monsieur LePont and his wife. The final patron of the table was Shannon Beiste, a robust, loud, red-faced woman that Kurt found to be the only worthwhile person at the table. He sank lower into his chair, as low as he possibly could without someone thinking he was uncouth. He glanced over at Shannon who was grinning mischievously and sent a wink his way. "So Monsieur LePont, what is your reason for leaving France?"

"Ah, Madame Beiste, I have been commissioned to design bridges in Washington and New York."

Kurt almost lost it into his glass of wine, years of French lessons allowing him to see the irony in the fact that a man whose name literally translated to 'the bridge' would be designing his namesake.

"What are things like in France?" Will asked, trying to keep the conversation flowing.

"Basically the same as in London it seems. Although, there is currently a scandal happening within the higher courts. Monsieur Prix was seen in an intimate embrace with another man."

Protests broke out between the other patrons and Kurt wanted to hide beneath the tablecloth.

Will was the first to say something intelligible and it made Kurt's blood boil. "I think we should just hang 'em all."

"Now that seems awful harsh Mister Schuester," Shannon spoke up. "I don't see a problem with it. Why should we judge people for who they love?"

Kurt wanted to kiss Shannon for her defence. He understood very well what it was like. He didn't just wake up one day and think to himself;  _hey I think I might want to kiss boys today_. As far back as he could remember Kurt had understood that he liked the same sex which is why he had never courted. Of course, now he was stuck with Rachel but that was a family obligation and had he had his way he would have died an old man, by himself.

"Yes, well I think it's a disease," Will added, looking at Shannon as if she had it and he might catch it just from being at the same table.

Kurt had shoved his chair away from the table before realising it, standing swiftly. "I need to get some air, not feeling well."

Rachel placed a hand on his arm, "is everything okay?"

"Yeah, just don't feel well, going to the deck for a bit." Kurt glanced around the table, searching for signs that any of them had caught onto the real reason he was escaping. If anyone understood they showed no signs of it, except perhaps Shannon who had a sympathetic look on her face.

Kurt fled the stuffy room, heading to the lower deck where he knew he wouldn't be bothered; the first class passengers wouldn't dare to go near the lower class passengers. He walked down the steps, opening the door that led out onto the deck, the only person out in the cool night air.

Blaine heard the door creak open, and the sharp tap of dress shoes across the wood of the deck and watched through the slats of the bench he was currently stretched out on as a person drew nearer. He held his breath as the man from the first class bridge passed him. Blaine watched the man's face as he passed, distraught written across his fine features.

Kurt stood at the railing, shrugging out of his jacket and placing it next to him on the railing. The cool air blew against his face, cooling the tears on his cheeks. How had it come to all this? Sailing away to America, supposedly the land of freedom, whilst chained to a woman he would never, could never truly love. He almost felt bad for Rachel Berry; she deserved more than this arranged marriage, more than a man whose heart really never could be hers. She deserved a man that would love her and Kurt couldn't do that. Sure, Kurt could force his way through the marriage, pretending to love, making himself have her bear children, but their marriage would always just be a sham.

He looked down into the dark water, the moon shining onto the wake the boat was leaving in its progress. He wondered then what it would be like to let go right now, to fall into the frigid water and be forgotten, releasing himself from the prison of life ahead of him. He contemplated the idea, each passing second the idea becoming more favourable in his mind.

Blaine was sitting up on the bench, watching the man. He saw the dissolve crumble, raw emotions crossing the man's features, and Blaine could pinpoint the moment the man wanted to end it. Blaine stood from the bench, moving closer just in case he needed to keep the man from finalising his thoughts.

Kurt gripped the rail in his hands, taking a deep breath and stepped onto the bottommost rung, his breathing becoming shallower as he began his ascent. He reached the point where he could swing a leg over the top of the rail and did so, gripping the railing in case he had a sudden change of heart. "Why?" the voice caught Kurt off guard and he pivoted his head upwards, catching sight of a tan-skinned man staring at him with deep hazel eyes.

"Why what?" Kurt asked, his voice hoarse.

"Why would you want to jump into the freezing cold water?" Blaine answered, moving closer to Kurt.

Kurt wanted to scoff at him, tell him to mind his own business, but the man seemed honest. "Because my life has gotten to the point that death would be a sweet release?"

Blaine edged closer again, not wanting to set the man off. "How could a person like you say that? Life isn't the grandest for me, but I would never want to jump off the back of a boat."

"You wouldn't understand," Kurt replied, tears forming in his eyes. "I'm chained here, jailed. I just want it all to be over."

Blaine had reached the railing that Kurt stood on, holding out his hand. "Why don't you climb back over so we can talk, yeah? Maybe I could help."

Kurt laughed, staring at the outstretched hand. "Right, because I'm sure you understand upper class issues."

The comment stung but Blaine didn't let it show. "Look mister, I didn't want to do this, thought maybe you had a shred of sense, but since apparently you don't I'm going to have to let you know that if you jump I will as well."

"What?" Kurt spluttered, looking at the man incredulously. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I don't think your life is worth any less than my own."

Kurt stared at the man, brown curls adhering to the man's forehead, giving him a youthful look. No one had ever said that Kurt was worth much of anything. Finn was the favourite at home, caring more about the business than Kurt ever would which was why Finn was staying in England, running the monopoly while Kurt suffered in America. "You don't even know me," Kurt all but whispered, swallowing thickly as he thought about if Blaine would say the same thing if he knew about Kurt's orientation.

"Don't have to; I'd do it for anyone, but especially a man like you who deserves to live his life to the fullest."

Kurt didn't know if this stranger was flirting now or not, but the deck seemed a lot better of an idea than the angry waves below. He began to climb back up the railing and was about to swing his leg back over when he lost his footing and slipped. He thought he would surely fall to his death, eyes closing shut in terror before he realised that a hand was grasping each of his wrists and Blaine was pulling him back across the metal, slipping backwards until Kurt tumbled on top of him, bringing them both to the ground. "Thank you…" he trailed of, realising he didn't know the other man's name.

"Blaine, Blaine Anderson," Blaine supplied, holding his hand out to Kurt who was still half-seated upon him.

"Kurt Hummel," Kurt articulated, taking Blaine's hand and revelling at the feel of the calloused hand against his own soft skin.

"There he is," a voice shouted that Kurt recognised to be Will. "Unhand him now you vagrant!"

Karofsky followed close behind Will as the both stopped short in front of the two men. "What in God's name is going on?"

Kurt stood off of Blaine, dusting himself off and gathering his jacket from the balustrade. "I was taking a walk and I slipped. Mr Anderson here saved me right before I was completely doomed."

Will and Karofsky looked down menacingly at Blaine who was standing up and trying to smooth down his stained shirt. "Well, maybe we should give him a medal," Karofsky muttered sarcastically.

"No, I think dinner tomorrow would do just fine," Kurt smiled slyly, looking between the two men as if daring them to challenge him.

"Right," Will muttered, "I hope he has proper clothes for the evening."

Blaine looked at Kurt blankly; surely Kurt knew he had no such thing.

"Surely Mr Anderson will show up dressed to the nines once Mrs Beiste talks to him." Kurt nodded slightly, trying to get Blaine to trust him.

"Well then Mr Anderson," Will continued with mock sincerity, "I do hope you will be able to join us at six o'clock in the dining room."

"I wouldn't miss it," Blaine grinned, shaking hands with all three men. "I'll see you fine fellows tomorrow." With that he was off, heading back to his cabin, grinning.

* * *

Blaine pushed open the door and bounded into the room.

"Blaine, what's gotten into you?" Wes asked, staring at him.

"You remember the man on the first class bridge this morning?"

"Not really, but sure."

"I just saved his life."

Wes blinked a couple of times, not sure he had heard Blaine correctly. "You saved him?"

"Yeah, he, um, slipped and almost fell overboard but I caught him just in time."

"Well good for you."

"I'm to eat dinner with him tomorrow."

Wes' mouth curled into a smile. "Oh really?" he grinned, an eyebrow rising playfully.

"Shut it, but yeah. Kurt, his name is Kurt, mentioned something about a Shannon that would help me find a suit. I'm going to look like a clown."

"Have fun with that mate."

Blaine lay on his bunk, staring up at the dip in Wes' bed where the other boy resided. Kurt was one of the most beautiful boys he'd ever met; he was playing with fire now.

* * *

Kurt sat at the piano in his cabin, fingers dancing across the ivory keys as he played a bit of Beethoven,  _Moonlight Sonata_ ringing clearly in the cabin. Kurt closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him as he thought back to Blaine. He thought about the man's smile, bright eyes searching, dark hair illuminated by the wash of moonlight across the deck. He had seemed like an angel, Kurt's very own guardian angel come to save him from himself. Kurt's fingers played in rhythm as he swayed slightly, the minor chords singing out to the sadness of Kurt's own heart, aching to be free, the freedom he had seen etched across Blaine's features. Blaine had seemed so carefree, but so solemn in keeping Kurt alive, reaching out when no one else had dared to look his way.

Kurt opened his eyes, a tear escaping and rolling down his cheek, splashing onto the keys as he kept up his playing, the song coming from memory. Music was his passion; he had taken piano lessons from age five and voice lessons starting when he turned seven. His parents had allowed it so that he would be classically trained, but he knew there was no future for him in the arts, those was for the lower class artists to thrive off of. He used music as an escape, Beethoven, Mozart, and Chopin all composers that led him away from the world into his own fantasies.

He finished the piece, the final note ringing in the air as he slid off the piano bench and hung his coat in the wardrobe, looking in at all the pressed suits, tailor made shirts, perfectly cut waistcoats. He'd give it all away to have freedom though. Every penny he had to not have a care in the world.


	3. Near, Far

Blaine was on the lower deck, basking in the afternoon sun when he heard his name being called. He looked around and saw a well-dressed woman, using a hand to shield her eyes and hollering his name. He jogged towards her, holding out his hand.

"Blaine Anderson?" she asked, shaking his hand politely.

He smiled brightly, shaking it. "Yeah, that's me."

"I'm Shannon Beiste. Kurt sent me to find you, said something about needing some clothes for tonight's dinner."

"Yes ma'am, I figure most people wouldn't like me showing up in what I have on."

Shannon smiled at him, motioning for him to follow her. "Yeah, I would think so. I have a tux in my room for my nephew in America. You two look about the same size, it'll do for tonight."

Blaine followed her into the second-class corridor and up the stairs into the first-class hallway. The space between the cabin doors was enough for Blaine to surmise the space behind them. He watched as they passed door after door, small plaques denoting the people hidden behind the ornately carved mahogany doors.

They stopped in front of a door near the end of the hallway,  _Shannon Beiste_  engraved in script next to the door. She unlocked the door and pushed it open, ushering Blaine inside. He looked around the room in wonder, taking in all the valuables she had packed into unused areas, wondering how much more the hold contained that belonged to her.

"Here it is," Shannon said, pulling a large white box out of a corner. "I didn't trust putting it in the cargo hold, figured I'd might as well keep it in my stateroom." She lifted the lid off of the box and held up the jacket, extending it towards Blaine. "Go ahead and try the jacket on, we'll see how much we've got to work with."

Blaine slid off his tattered jacket and draped it over the chair. He took the offered tuxedo jacket and gingerly put it on, the sleeves only a tad too long on his arms. He stood there as Shannon looked him over before telling him to put the rest of it on and excusing herself to the toilet.

Blaine kicked off his trousers, sliding the tuxedo trousers on. He slid of the jacket and replaced his own shirt with the one in the box. He buttoned it, tucking in the shirttails and doing the zip and button on the trousers. The trousers fit snugly on his waist and the shirt outlined his muscular frame. In short, Blaine thought he looked pretty good. "I'm all done Mrs Beiste!" he yelled in the direction she had gone, turning in the mirror to see how the suit fit.

"I told you to call me Shannon," she said, entering the room and looking Blaine over. "You look great! You'll fit right in tonight."

"Hah, yeah right, until I open my mouth and sound like an uneducated fool in front of everyone."

Shannon smiled it him. "You have no idea how much the rest of them look like uneducated fools when they open their mouths to talk. Plus, just sit near me and Mr Hummel and we'll keep you safe."

Blaine smiled, forcing himself to not blush at the sound of Kurt's name. "What's he like? Mr Hummel I mean?"

Shannon sat in a chair, huffing slightly. "To tell you the truth I think he's miserable." Blaine quirked an eyebrow as she continued on. "What I mean to say is that he's being forced into marriage with that Berry girl and you can tell he's sitting there with twenty different places on his mind that he'd rather be at. The kid's already being forced to go to America to open new franchises of his father's company, why did he have to force Kurt to marry the snottiest brat they could find?"

So that was that Blaine realised, Kurt was going to wed this Berry girl and he could kiss his dreams of being with the boy goodbye. Not that he had stood a chance with Kurt in the first place, but still.

"Perk up kiddo, you look like you swallowed a lemon. Now let's get something done with that unruly bird nest perched atop your head."

* * *

Half of an hour and a third of a tub of hair gel later Shannon deemed Blaine presentable. His usually bouncy curls were swept off his face and tamed down, clinging more closely to his head with a couple curls fashioned into a sweep in the middle of his forehead. Shannon had tied his bowtie for him, finishing off the outfit and standing back to admire her handiwork. "Well, don't you clean up nicely Mr Anderson? I don't think anyone will say you look out of place a bit."

Blaine thanked her as she ushered him out of the door, telling him that she was to take him as far as the Grand Staircase and Mr Hummel and associates would meet him there. Blaine followed her quietly through the carpeted passageways and towards a set of ornately carved wooden doors. "Here's where I drop you off," she said as the rounded the corner and came upon a sweeping staircase. "Mr Hummel will be here soon and I'll see you in the dining room. Good luck Mr Anderson."

Blaine murmured a quick thank you and adjusted his bowtie nervously as people flitted around him, talking animatedly with one another. He leaned against one of the massive wooden posts and waited, getting more nervous by the second. He jumped when he heard his name being spoken and turned to find Kurt walking towards him with a girl on his arm and the two men from the night before flanking him.

Blaine ducked his head in greeting, smiling as the group approached. "Hello Mr Hummel, nice to see you again." He turned to Rachel, taking her hand and kissing it gently. "You must be the lovely Ms Berry Shannon was telling me all about."

Rachel smiled and nodded. "Yes, I'm Rachel Berry of Berry oil. I'm on the way to start more franchises in America!"

"Isn't that lovely," Blaine smiled, playing along as if he fit in with the crowd. He followed them into the dining room, staring at the rows of tables filled by people dressed in tuxedos and suits, every hair in its place. Kurt and Rachel took their seats first, Kurt motioning for Blaine to sit next to him. Shannon slid into the chair available on the other side of Blaine and winked.

As the food arrived in courses Blaine couldn't remember a time food had ever tasted this good. Even the water was fresher and cooler than he remembered. There were salads, caviar, leg of lamb and champagne, food so well-known to everyone but Blaine who felt as if he was on an exotic cruise. Wine was poured in abundance, loosening tongues all around the table.

"So what's your story Blaine? How did you get on the Titanic?" Will asked through sips of whiskey.

"You could say that I'm just a lucky fool, sir. Won the tickets off of a pair of Russians in a game of poker this yesterday morning in fact."

The table laughed generously, being polite as they could to their odd guest. "How do you make a living Mr Anderson?" Rachel asked, holding tightly to Kurt's arm.

"Odd jobs here and there, although I am an artist and singer, though the pay for those talents is not great."

The people seated around the table gave a collected shudder, other than Kurt who was regarding Blaine even more closely.

"So you're a lucky son of a gun that patters around on the streets looking for work and a place to lay your head?" Will asked, his nose turned up in disgust.

"You could say that, yeah, but once I get back to America I'll be on the track to riches, like they say America is the land of dreams, and I've got some pretty big ones." Blaine glanced around the table, all but Shannon and Kurt smirking behind wine glasses. Blaine caught Kurt's eye and the man smiled at him, tipping his head towards Blaine.

"What kind of music do you enjoy?" Kurt spoke up quietly, loud enough for Blaine to hear but still drowned out by the rest of the noise in the room.

"I lived with a family once and the mother taught me to play a bit of Beethoven and Mozart on the piano. I've always loved classical."

"Me too, I have a piano in my cabin, maybe you could come by some time and show me what you know."

Blaine smiled and nodded his assent before the table was swept up in conversation, someone asking about the Hummel's and Blaine tried his best to keep up. He stole a glance at Shannon who winked over at him, giving him thumbs up. He listened as Kurt talked; enjoying the man's lilting voice, taking in his features, the way his eyes sparkled when he really smiled at something. Blaine wanted to get to know him better, but class rank and Kurt's marriage would keep them apart. Blaine was hanging onto these moments, trying to figure out a way to get the man away from the rest of the crowd.

It was in that moment that a fountain pen, left on the table by one person or the other, came rolling across to nudge Blaine's hand and leave a small black smear. He picked it up, laughing at the turn of his fortune and grabbed the napkin from under his wine glass. He scribbled a short note underneath the table and folded it, nudging Kurt's hand with his own. He slid the paper into Kurt's hand, squeezing it slightly.

* * *

Blaine pushed away from the table after dessert, the other men retiring to the lounge, Rachel heading to her cabin and Shannon declining an offer at another table instead heading towards the first class deck. He made his way out of the dining room and up to the landing leading towards the stairs.

Back in the dining room, Kurt unfolded the napkin and smiled at the scraggly handwriting telling him to meet Blaine on the staircase. He brushed Rachel's cheek with his lips, telling her he'd see her later and excused himself from the table. He hurried towards the staircase, his mind telling him this was wrong, wrong, wrong, but he didn't care, he needed this escape and this would be the only chance to get it. Once he stepped foot off of this boat he'd be back to Mr Hummel of Hummel Steel, husband to Mrs Rachel Berry.

He smiled as he rounded the corner to see Blaine nervously fiddling with his cufflinks, standing awkwardly as people pass around him. "Mr Anderson, I believe I was supposed to meet you here?"

Blaine looked up quickly, smiling when he saw Kurt. "Mr Hummel, there's something I wanted to show you. I wasn't sure you'd come."

"I wasn't sure I would either, but here I am." Kurt inclined his head, sweeping his hand in front of him, telling Blaine to lead the way. He followed behind Blaine in relative silence as they entered a staircase that would lead them down into the lower class hallway, eventually opening out onto the lower class deck.

Blaine turned to Kurt, "I know it's not what you're used to, but I like it down here. It's home to me, at least for the few days we're on here."

Kurt's lips turned upwards into a smile as he sat next to Blaine on the floor. "It's wonderful. I'd much rather be here than in first class where everyone is too proper and stuffy."

"You seem to like stuffy though, I mean, your outfit definitely outshone everyone else's."

Kurt looked down at his ensemble, pink lightly tinging his cheeks at Blaine's statement. "I enjoy fashion, I know it's impossible, but I'd love to be a tailor, making clothes all day, telling people how to dress to make them look better, but no, I'm Kurt Hummel of Hummel Steel and Metals."

Blaine looked up, drinking in the night sky, stars covering the vast expanse above them. "Most people I know would give anything to change their lives, but me; I'm pretty content with what I have. I mean, I may not live in a fancy house or have fancy clothes, but I'm on a ship with my best friend and we're heading back to America, that's all I need in life you know? How about you Mr Hummel, how content are you?"

Kurt let out a small laugh, trying not to let his mind dwell on the fact that Blaine had said he was traveling with his best friend give him hope. "Not at all. I'm being forced into this business, forced into this marriage, I don't even like her and she liked my brother a lot more, and I'm being forced to wed her."

Blaine took Kurt's hand in his own, pulling a bit of courage out from somewhere. The other man didn't flinch; instead he curled his hand around Blaine's and looked at him. "There's something else I need to tell you Kurt and you are absolutely allowed to hit me or never even look at me again, but this is my one chance and I'm not going to waste it. You intrigue me, I think you're gorgeous, and all I could think of tonight at dinner was how much I wanted to kiss you." Blaine squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the rejection, the astonishment, but it never came. Instead he felt a pair of soft lips press to his, a hand reaching into the curls at the base of his neck, and the hand in his own clench even tighter. Blaine forced himself to open his eyes, to remember every bit of this moment.

Kurt pulled away, his heart beating, eyes wide. "You have no idea how much I wanted to do that. I couldn't stop staring at your lips at dinner, I was sure everyone noticed." He released Blaine's hand, standing up swiftly. "I need to get back to my cabin, but tomorrow you'll show me around?"

"Around the ship?" Blaine queried, still dazed from the encounter.

"Yeah. Meet me here tomorrow at noon." With that he took off in the direction of the stairs, heart pounding in his chest. Oh this was foolish, so very, very foolish, but he didn't care, he felt more alive than he had in years.

Blaine sat on the deck still, replaying the events in his mind, memorising the way Kurt's lips had felt against his own. He sat there not moving until the night chill began to creep into his clothes and he headed downstairs to his cabin. Wes was grinning at him from his bunk as he entered. "Hey, where's your real clothes?" he joked, pointing at the tux Blaine was still wearing. "And what happened to your hair?"

"Shannon told me I could just bring the tuxedo back to her tomorrow, and that scary stuff in my head is what they call gel. I never want to use the stuff again."

"So how did it go?" Wes asked, putting down whatever book he was currently reading.

Blaine turned around in the cabin checking for signs of life in the other two beds before undoing his tie and launching into the story of the night. Wes loved the impressions of Will and Rachel, laughing where he should. It was the deck story though that had much more of his attention.

"He kissed you? Blaine, man, you're playing with fire."

Blaine sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing at his face with the palm of his hands. "Tell me about it, but it was just a kiss. In a few days' time we'll be headed our separate ways, no one will be the wiser."

"Just stay out of trouble. I don't want you overboard before we make it to shore."

Blaine smiled at Wes, promising he'd try and stay out of harm's way, but as he fell asleep with the feel of Kurt's hand in his, their lips touching, he knew it was a promise he couldn't keep.


	4. Wherever You Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here-in lies smut.

Kurt made his way towards the third class cabins, paranoia of being followed causing him to check over his shoulder every few minutes. It had been hard enough for him to ditch his detail, feigning a headache and had stayed in the cabin until he was sure Rachel, Will, and the rest had heading to the dining room for lunch.

"Hey first class," a rough voice called, causing Kurt to turn on his heel. "What are you doing down here? You lost?"

"Um no," Kurt stuttered, "I'm looking for a friend."

"What kind of steerage hangs out with you?"

"Oi, he's with me you ruddy oilman, back off!"

Kurt had never been so happy to hear the Irish accent in his life, even though his family had looked down on the Irish families that worked in their factories and steel mills. The man that had accosted Kurt backed off with a strange look at Rory.

"Kurt, what are you doing down here? You stick out like a sore thumb in your pressed trousers."

"Looking for Blaine," Kurt admitted, blushing at the grin that spread over Rory's face.

"He's in the cabin, whining about social hierarchies and the like. I was heading back to the cabin now anyway. Why don't you follow me back and I'll let you borrow a set of clothes so you can get around down here without a hundred questions?"

"You don't have to."

"Yeah, well I don't want you getting in more trouble." Rory stopped and pushed open the door to his cabin. "Look what I found roaming the hallway," Rory called out as he entered the small room.

Kurt smiled as Blaine bounded off his bunk with a yell of Kurt's name, enveloping the taller boy in a hug. "See you guys," Blaine grinned as he stepped away from Kurt, "I told you he was real." Blaine turned back to Kurt, taking him by the hand. "How did you get away from the bodyguards?"

"Told them I had a headache. They will mainly leave me alone if I say I don't feel well," Kurt answered.

"Well how long do you have until they notice you're missing?" Blaine asked, wanting to get out of the room before Wes started his teasing.

"Probably a few hours, but they will just think I went for a walk out on the deck, I tend to take walks often to clear my mind."

Blaine saw Wes grinning out of the corner of his eye and inwardly groaned, not knowing what was coming next.

"Blaine here likes to take walks too, Kurt," Wes supplied, pointing at Blaine. "You two should take a walk; get to know one another better and all that yeah?"

Kurt regarded Wes closely before smirking, "thank you for that lovely piece of information Wes, although I was hoping that you would be gone when we returned, I might need to rest in his bed for a bit after such a gruelling walk, my legs might be sore."

For the first time in his life Blaine had finally seen Wes put in his place, the boy stunned and almost falling off the bunk he had been leaning over. The group stood there, Puck trying not to laugh at the situation and Blaine blushing intensely. "Here Kurt, found a set of clothes that should fit you," Rory broke into the silence, causing Blaine to jump slightly.

"Thank you," Kurt said graciously, taking the set from Rory and toed off his shoes. Kurt started working on the buttons to his shirt before he stopped suddenly and turned to face the room. "I do hope you boys don't mind if I change in here."

"No, don't mind at all," Blaine answered hastily before anyone could object, the sliver of skin that was being shown at the collar was enough to make Blaine want to taste it, to see if it tasted as sweet as the honey voice that fell out of Kurt's mouth in the clipped accent he spoke in.

The rest nodded their assent, Wes grinning down at Blaine blatantly, wagging his eyebrows once Kurt turned back towards the bed.

Blaine watched as the crisp shirt that looked out of place in these cabins slid off, revealing pale, alabaster skin, taut muscles in Kurt's arms stretching as he slipped off the shirt and pulled on the grey shirt Rory had lent him. Blaine knew he should have turned around when he heard Kurt unzip his trousers but he was glued to the floor of the cabin, eyes following the curve of Kurt's arse in the tight, blue pants Kurt had on, trimmed thighs making Blaine wonder if Kurt had ever danced. Kurt quickly pulled on the khaki trousers of Rory's and tucked in the shirt, turning around. "Do I look okay?" he queried, twirling slowly.

"You look great," Blaine smiled. "Thanks for letting him borrow these; he'll fit right in where we're going later today."

Wes sent Blaine a questioning glance but Blaine simply smiled and pulled Kurt out of the cabin.

"So Blaine, what are your big plans for later then?" asked Kurt as the door shut behind them.

"We're going dancing tonight, but I thought maybe we'd grab some food from the galley and walk around the cargo hold for a bit, see what people brought with them." Blaine grabbed Kurt's hand, tugging the taller boy lightly in the direction of the galley.

"You mean you're going to steal food?" asked Kurt, shooting an appalled glance at Blaine.

"Yeah, what of it?" Blaine replied, not understanding what the problem was.

Kurt stopped in his tracks. "Blaine, I can't, I've never stolen anything in my life!"

"You've never had to either, but I have. I've lived on the streets Kurt, stole food just to keep from dying of starvation. Down here in the third class cabins, there's little food to go around for all of us. That dinner last night was the best I've eaten in years."

Kurt stopped and looked at Blaine, really looked at the boy and realised Blaine was a lot more world-weary than Kurt could ever imagine. "I'm – I don't really know what to say actually. I'm sorry Blaine."

"It's fine. I'm on the way home to America, so it's great, things will be better."

"For you perhaps," Kurt said quietly, his face falling as he slowed down. "For me it's going to be a life of living a lie. I wish I could just be me. Do what I love, you know?"

Blaine paused, "what do you love? If there was one thing you could do instead of all this, what would it be?"

"Singing," Kurt answered quickly. "I had lessons in piano and singing until I was sixteen, classical music mostly. After that I was discouraged from singing because it wouldn't further my career following my father's footsteps."

"That's ridiculous! Music is one of the greatest things. You can fit so much emotion into simple lyrics and music notes on a page. If it wasn't for my guitar I would have lost it a long time ago." Blaine stared at Kurt in shock that the other boy had been discouraged from his passion.

"I'm still allowed to play the piano, just Mozart and Bach, nothing new, and there are some great pieces from Ireland and America. Didn't you say you played the piano?"

"Yeah, I know a bit of classical but I mainly write my own stuff," Blaine blushed, surprised that Kurt had remembered that.

"Why don't you come to my compartment then? I have a piano in my stateroom. I'd love to hear something you've composed." Kurt smiled, pulling on Blaine's arm lightly.

"What if someone sees us? You look as much of a vagabond as I do. Maybe there's a piano in the hold, we could go look down there."

Kurt grinned, heading off down the hallway before stopping to turn back to Blaine. "I have absolutely no idea where to go."

Blaine chuckled, "follow me. First the kitchens and then the hold." He took off down the hallway, grabbing Kurt's hand and towed the boy with him.

Blaine weaved his way to the kitchen area for the second and third class passengers, pushing the staff door open and stuck his head in and glanced around. "Coast is clear. Quickly, before someone comes around." Blaine stole into the kitchen with practised air, grabbing a loaf of bread and half a block of cheese that was sitting on a tray, snagging a bottle of cheap champagne in the process. He whirled Kurt back around and out the door before Kurt knew what was happening and then took off down the hall.

Blaine wasn't exactly sure where the hold was, but he knew the general direction. They weaved their way lower into the bowels of the castle, the smell of burning coal finding its way to their noses right as Blaine pushed open the door to the furnace room. They slid quickly through the room, sweaty men shovelling coal into burning furnaces, powering the ship.

Finally, once they were on the other side of the furnace room, Blaine pushed open the door to the cargo hold and immediately fell down the short flight of stairs into the room. Kurt laughed as Blaine sprawled on his back in the middle of the floor, clutching the champagne bottle to his chest. Kurt hopped down the three steps and held out a hand to Blaine who took it and heaved himself off the floor. "Look at all this stuff," Blaine said, gesticulating to the objects packed onto the boat including automobiles.

"Look, I told you there was going to be a piano down here," Kurt grinned, pointing to the grand piano sitting near a pack of crates. He moved towards it, opening the onyx lid and tinkled a few of the keys, running through a scale to find it perfectly in tune. He sat down at it before tapping out a few notes to 'Ode to Joy'.

Blaine joined Kurt at the piano, sliding onto the bench, their thighs touching as Blaine played a few notes. Kurt moved his hands from the keys and watched as Blaine shut his eyes, fingers dancing across the keys as a sweet melody filled Kurt's ears. It was unlike anything Kurt had ever heard, much mellower than the music of eighteenth and nineteenth century composers he knew. The music flitted from high register to low, turning melancholy at parts that made Kurt think of everything he'd loved and lost, most of all the man next to him. Blaine slowed his playing, opening his eyes as he finished off the piece and Kurt clapped, smiling brightly. "That was beautiful Blaine, how long did it take you to compose that?"

Blaine's cheeks coloured slightly, "I just made it up on the spot," he admitted.

"You just – on the spot? That's amazing." Kurt was bewildered by all the contradictions Blaine seemed to be wrapped up in one person.

"It's nothing but chords and notes thrown together, I think I'll name it 'Heart of the Ocean'. It made me think of the sea we're on and you, that's what most of the melody reminded me of, you."

It was Kurt's turn to blush as he thought of the fact that he had been the subject of such a melodious song, wondering though, why there had been such a quietly morose movement. He stood from the bench and walked away from the piano, towards an automobile sitting a few feet away. He ran a hand along the smooth ebony paint, wheels freshly shined, and metal gleaming in even the drab light of the cargo hold. His father had an automobile much like the one here, but his father's was a deep, red colour, like that of a beet vegetable.

Kurt peered into the automobile, the seats a warm crème, outlined with gold coloured stitching. He rested a hand against the handle of the door, admiring the workmanship of the automobile. Suddenly his hand was enveloped in warmth as Blaine laid his own hand over top of Kurt's. Kurt pulled his hand away slowly, nerves tingling from the contact. Blaine smiled, his hazel eyes shining brightly as he tugged the door open and held his hand out to Kurt, "after you Monsieur."

Kurt laughed lightly, taking the proffered hand and stepping up and inside, Blaine following after and pulling the door closed behind him. He handed the bottle of champagne to Kurt to hold until he could pull the small knife he kept on him out of his pocket to uncork the bottle.

Blaine put the bottle to his lips, taking a swig of the liquid and passed it to Kurt who stared at the bottle for a moment before quaffing a bit of the drink himself. It tasted much like the champagne Kurt had had at home, but sweeter in a not-so-great way somehow. Kurt didn't much mind though, not when all he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss Blaine again. He'd much rather taste Blaine's mouth, to see how champagne tasted on his lips.

Kurt pulled the bottle from Blaine's hands and leaned in, seizing Blaine's mouth with his own, kissing him, swirling their tongues together, skin burning through the light layers of clothing. The bottle dropped to the floor out of Kurt's hand unnoticed as he reached up to pull Blaine closer to him, breaking the kiss to nip at the skin beneath Blaine's ear, Blaine moaning in response as he tugged at the buttons of the shirt Kurt wore, wanting to caress the skin beneath that was fiery to the touch.

Kurt pulled Blaine's braces off his shoulders, stretching them out slightly, feeling the elastic give. He tugged Blaine's button-up out of his trousers and began to undo the buttons as Blaine pulled at Kurt's. Kurt tugged Blaine forwards, kissing him as Blaine's hands dropped from the shirt that was hanging off Kurt's shoulders.

Blaine wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist, pressing their chests together and sighed into Kurt's mouth at the feel of their skin touching. Blaine slowly tilted backwards, stretching out onto the seat and pulling Kurt down on top of him.

Kurt situated himself comfortably, kissing Blaine's neck and chest, anything to get a response out of the boy. Kurt shifted slightly and suddenly could feel Blaine's erection pressing against his own and pressed down slightly, causing Blaine to groan and grapple at Kurt's trousers, undoing the zip and button before shoving his trousers and pants down as far as he could. Kurt leaned back, sliding them down to his knees before working with Blaine's trousers. Kurt dragged them down Blaine's body to his ankle before returning to hover over Blaine, lost as to what to do.

Blaine saw the hesitation in Kurt's eyes "is everything alright?"

Kurt nodded, embarrassed, "yeah, I just, I've never been intimate with anyone before."

"Neither have I," Blaine stated shyly, but it can't be that hard to figure out, just go with what feels right?"

Kurt nodded and bent down to kiss Blaine again, unsure of if he would ever get enough of those kisses. Their cocks brushed together and caused both of the boys to let out small noises. Blaine slid a hand to Kurt's butt, grabbing a cheek and pressed Kurt back down against him, grinding upwards at the same time. Kurt moaned into Blaine's shoulder, biting at the soft flesh as his hips moved of his own accord, thrusting down against Blaine, wanting more friction against the hardness.

Blaine slipped his hand between their bodies, grabbing around their cocks roughly and Kurt gasped at the contact of a hand other than his own touching him. He pushed into Blaine's hand, rutting shamelessly into the tight heat as Blaine bucked beneath him. Kurt recaptured Blaine's mouth, sucking obscenely on Blaine's tongue as heat pooled below his abdomen.

Blaine moaned and pressed his hips upwards, rutting into his own hand, the sweet friction between his and Kurt's bodies causing sweat to bead on his skin, smearing across his chest as Kurt kissed him, their skin set on fire wherever it touched.

Kurt pressed his forehead against Blaine's, panting heavily as he pressed into Blaine, fingers gripping into Blaine's biceps, blue eyes locked onto hazel ones. "Blaine, I'm close," Kurt whispered into the dense, steamy air of the interior of the automobile. Kurt kissed him again, tongue slipping into Blaine's mouth and tangling together.

Kurt drove his hips downwards a few more times, lost in the sensations swirling around him before he was crying out and spilling over Blaine's hand and onto their chests, Blaine still writhing under him.

Blaine let go of Kurt's cock and stroked himself harder and faster, throwing his head back and moaning Kurt's name into the close space before he was releasing his orgasm, gripping Kurt's arm tightly as he stretched beneath Kurt.

Kurt lowered himself down to Blaine's chest, lying there quietly as their pants filled the space, almost humidly suffocating from their endeavours. "That was amazing. Thank you Blaine," Kurt whispered, tears pooling in his eyes at how perfect the whole thing had been.

"There's no need to thank me Kurt, you were- are brilliant," Blaine replied, brushing back a few strands of hair that were stuck to Kurt's forehead by sweat.

"You know I have to get off this boat with her. What we are, what we have, it's only for these stolen moments. I don't get a second chance, there's no freedom waiting for me at the end of this trip." Kurt hurt; his heart especially as he spoke the words that haunted him, things he had rehearsed in his head the night before, lying in bed and thinking about the kiss he and Blaine had shared.

"Just come with me. Forget them, just leave with me and never look back."

"I wish I could Blaine," Kurt sighed, looking away, "but I can't live on luck, I wouldn't last a day on my own."

"You wouldn't be on your own," Blaine supplied and he hated how much he sounded like he was pleading. "I'll never be able to forget you, you know that? You'll always be there, this brilliant, beautiful memory that'll be burned into me forever."

"I'll never forget you either," whispered Kurt. "How could I after you've given me so much?"

Blaine kissed Kurt softly, cupping the boy's face with his left hand, caressing the skin gently. "Rachel is lucky, she gets to keep you forever," he sighed. "Funny how life is y'know? Puts the perfect thing in front of you but never lets you have it."

Kurt felt a tear streak down his cheek, splashing onto Blaine's chest as his heart filled with sorrow, wanting nothing more than to run away with Blaine, to forget who he was and where he was supposed to be, instead becoming the person he felt trapped inside.

"Come on," Blaine said suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen between them, "let's get cleaned up, I really did plan on taking you dancing."

Kurt sat up, tossing Blaine his shirt as Kurt pulled up his pants and trousers. "I wonder if there is a rag in the hold somewhere."

"Oh, even better," grinned Blaine mischievously, holding up and embroidered handkerchief, "look what I found."

Kurt would have found the decency to be appalled if it hadn't been for the fact that he was laughing at the absurdity of the entire situation and graciously accepted the linen from Blaine's hand. He dabbed at the quickly drying mess on him, cleaning as best as he could without water and handed it over to Blaine who did the same before tossing on his shirt.

* * *

Blaine weaved in and out of people, trying to reach the makeshift stage where some of the lower-class individuals were set up with varying instruments. "Blaine!" he heard called across the room and saw Rory and Wes sitting near one of the doors. He tugged Kurt along over to where they sat and greeted his friends.

"So how was your walk?" Wes asked innocently, his smile sickly sweet.

Kurt blushed a brilliant shade of crimson as Blaine fumbled with his words. "We, um, walked, yeah, there was a piano!"

Wes cocked an eyebrow, "oh really? Did you play something pretty for Kurt?"

"He did," Kurt answered, causing Blaine to blush. "Made it up on the spot to, said it reminded him of the ocean, and me."

"Blaine my man," Wes laughed, clapping a hand on Blaine's shoulder, "you sure know how to woo a person."

"Oh shut up!" Blaine yelled over the music that had started up. He grabbed Kurt's hand and pulled him to the area that was being cleared for dancers. "Come on; just follow me if you don't know what to do!"

Kurt watched in awe as people began swinging partners around, laughing gaily while others cheered them on from the side lines. He let the music wash over him and let it sink in, throbbing in his very core as his feet picked up a rhythm. He moved his body gracefully as he partnered with Blaine, each of them keeping time with the seasoned dancers that were out on the floor along-side them.

"Where did you learn to dance like that?" Blaine murmured into Kurt's ear as the song ended and the makeshift band played a slow song and the dancers coupled up.

"Never learned really, just loved to dance when I was younger, my mum and I danced before she passed away." Kurt leaned into Blaine's arms, feeling warmer and safer than he had since he was a small child. "Dad remarried and with my stepmom Carole, came Finn, who is the perfect son it seems, and so all of my more artistic endeavours were cut off."

Blaine looked up at Kurt, the slightly taller boy's eyes were cloudy with bottled up anger. "That's stupid. You should be allowed to do what you want."

"Tell that to Burt Hummel of Hummel Steel, whose only plan for his son is to marry Rachel Berry of Berry Oil so that he can grow his empire." Kurt shook his head, "okay, let's not talk about this anymore, I just want to enjoy what's been a perfect night."

Blaine nodded his assent and took Kurt's hand, intertwining their fingers as they swayed to the lilting song, surrounded by other couples packed onto the floor.

"Do they really not care?" Kurt asked, nodding towards the others.

"Care about what?" Blaine questioned.

Kurt looked around at the others smiling as they passed by. "That we're both men."

Blaine let out a small laugh. "Most of them have more to worry about than who loves whom. I mean, yeah there are some that look down on it, think its sick, but really, why should it matter. In our class standings we're lucky enough to get a good meal, it doesn't matter who you love, and it's the closest thing to freedom a person can really get."

Kurt mulled Blaine's words over in his mind as the tempo increased and the song changed, an Irish melody flowing out of the violin. How was it that the people that seemed the most repressed were the freest in mind and spirit? Kurt longed to live in a society where he could love whom he chose, not who his father wanted him to.

Blaine led Kurt into the pairing lines as the group broke out into a dance, high kicks throwing off most of the men, but Kurt, who secretly had been dancing in his room for years, was able to reach the same level as some women. He saw someone talking to Blaine before the man yelled out, "Kurt," and suddenly his name was being chanted as he kicked and spun, the music pumping through his veins, sending him flying high. He bumped into someone and saw that Blaine had been shoved towards him and suddenly they were dancing together, rhythm flowing between them.

The floor was soon flooded with moving bodies, dancing around the pair in the middle that were so lost in one another that the world had simply stopped existing except for the two of them.

* * *

Kurt panted, out of breath and laughing as he, Blaine, Wes, and Rory made their way to the compartment. Wes was non-stop talking about the way everyone had taken to Kurt, each person lining up to dance with him. "I've never seen a person of your stature dance like that, where did you learn?"

"I never learned," Kurt replied, his cheeks colouring. "I just always loved to dance to music; I just let the music take me where it wants to."

The boys tumbled into the compartment, Puck nowhere to be found, Kurt and Blaine falling onto Blaine's bunk.

"You're welcome to stay with us Kurt, I'm sure Blaine wouldn't mind sharing a bunk with you," Wes said, winking.

"As much as I'd like to take up the offer," Kurt laughed lightly, "the rest of my party would tear up the ship to find me."

"Nah, she's unsinkable," Rory put in from his bunk.

"Either way, I should probably be getting back to my quarters before they set out a search party. Thank you for your hospitality." Kurt stood, resting a hand on Blaine's shoulder. "Rory, do you mind if I keep these clothes so I can come back down tomorrow?"

"Ya, go ahead mate."

Kurt turned to leave but was pulled back slightly as Blaine pulled Kurt into his arms, kissing him softly, Wes catcalling loudly. "I'll see you tomorrow?" Blaine asked after they had pulled away.

"Of course," Kurt smiled, waving to Rory and Wes. "Keep him out of trouble for me boys!"

"Heh, like he isn't in enough already," Wes laughed at the closed door, turning to Blaine. "Want to fill me in on how you spent most of the day then?"

Blaine grinned, "We walked through the ship hold, stole some food, and went dancing. Not much to it."

"You're a liar Blaine Anderson! I know more happened!"

"Maybe in your mind, I was a perfectly good gentleman." Blaine had slipped into his bunk so Wes couldn't see him laughing.

Suddenly Wes popped his head over his mattress. "Oh really? That just means you opened doors and let him go first. If you know what I mean."

"Wes, go to sleep, you're becoming delirious."

"Aha!" Wes crowed triumphantly, "you totally did, didn't you?"

"Even if we did, which I'm not saying we did, you would be the last to know."

"Ouch, that hurts," Wes whined, clutching his chest. "Right through the heart mate, right through the heart."

Blaine smiled and rolled over onto his bunk, smiling to himself. If only Wes knew, he laughed mentally.

* * *

Kurt ducked into a corner of the first-class deck and tugged off Rory's clothes, replacing them with his own. He checked his pocket watch; if he hurried he could make it in time for dinner. Kurt rushed to his stateroom, almost barrelling into Will in his haste.

"Kurt!" Will cried, "I thought you'd gone missing!"

"I'm here now," Kurt panted breathlessly. "I lost track of the time."

"You look awful, your hair is mussed and your clothes are wrinkled!"

"Give me two minutes," Kurt replied, sliding between Will and the door. "I'll get everything fixed."

Two minutes later Kurt was walking with Will towards the dining room, freshly pressed jacket, hair neatly in place, and Rory's clothes hidden in a drawer.

They entered the dining room and found their table, Kurt slipping into his seat next to Rachel and suddenly felt out of place in the stiff suit and table full of plastered on smiles. Rachel leaned over to whisper in his ear, "I'm glad you're feeling better, Will said you'd been gone most of the day."

Kurt smiled, placing a hand awkwardly on her too-small arm. "I just feel trapped on this boat, I don't like it."

"Well no worries," she smiled, attempting to be reassuring, "we'll be at port in a few more days."

Kurt inwardly groaned. A few more days and he'd be marrying the girl next to him, not the man he'd fallen in love with. The thought struck him suddenly like a shock of electricity. He loved Blaine. Blaine was the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, making love to one another, singing, and drawing and dancing. He didn't want any of this, not the money, not the people, not even the clothes. He would give it all away for a chance to be with Blaine.

* * *

As Kurt lay in bed that night he mulled everything over in his mind, growing more and more depressed as the ship floated on, carrying him ever closer to America, the land of freedom for so many, but the land of bondage for Kurt.


End file.
